


You Make Me Feel

by xrimson



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: And in love, Canon Compliant, First Kiss, Getting Together, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of TBP fight, POV Shiro (Voltron), Pining Shiro (Voltron), Scars, Season/Series 07, softness because they're soft boys, temporary emotional telepathy, the scene we deserve but never got
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23741860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xrimson/pseuds/xrimson
Summary: On their course back to Earth, Shiro can't help but burden the guilt for the havoc his clone had brought.Of course, Keith doesn't allow any of it.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 56





	You Make Me Feel

The astral plane, in a single word, had been empty.

One would think that within the conscience of an indestructible, sentient lion mech welded with altean magic that draws it’s energy from immanent stores of quintessence, there would be a lot more than a barren landscape, yet that’s all it was. Shiro used to wander the desolate realm aimlessly for hours on end (or had it been days? months?) in search of _something_ , something other than the purple haze and the endless sky and the unfamiliar constellations peering down on him from above.

He might have gone insane if it weren’t for the bond he and Black still shared. Would’ve been driven mad, completely isolated with nothing but his own, corrupt thoughts there to keep him company. However, there were often foreign emotions welling up within him that he knew weren’t his own. The astral plane left him feeling nothing more than a lingering shadow, but then there had been spikes of recklessness or elation or boldness or frustration and despite not mostly consisting of positive sensations, it’s what kept him grounded to reality, and (after realising exactly where these emotions were sourcing from) it kept him grounded to Keith.

Sometimes though, they’d pile up and leave him overwhelmed, and whenever this happened it had always been accompanied with a coiling collage of anguish and sadness and guilt and hopelessness and despair. In those moments, it hadn’t been hard to place a finger on what was happening, and Shiro longed for nothing more than to just be up there: in the cockpit of the Black Lion and comfort Keith as he breaks down in the pilot chair. Longing to kneel before him, place a heavy hand on his shoulder and reassure him that he’s doing fine. Longing to wipe away the tears trailing down his pale cheeks with a gentle thumb, embrace him tightly and speak soothing words and endearments into his dark hair. 

Those feelings had ceased though when Keith resigned; replaced with scattered thoughts and twisted emotions when his clone had wrongly taken his place as the Black Paladin instead.

A clone, who’s body he now occupies. It shouldn’t feel so alien: after all, the clone has the exact same genome as his old body. And despite the shocking white hair and the phantom ache of an arm that’s no longer there, everything else — rather disconcertingly – is exactly the same.

But there are things that this body – _his_ body – had done that he can’t bare to associate with. He’s betrayed the team, mislead his friends’ trust, clouded everyone’s judgment, ran away with Lotor, and god, _Keith_ …

As if his thoughts had been heard by the universe, the door that leads to the cockpit opens with a woosh, welcoming the silhouette of a familiar figure that Shiro pains to reach out for and hold for hours.

Keith enters with his helmet tucked underneath his arm and a steadily composed look on his face, though when he meets Shiro’s gaze a gentle smile spills over his lips. Shiro returns the gesture since he can’t resist doing so even if he tried. He’s always so glad to see Keith; simply his presence in a room (even if he’s merely just looming in a corner) is a comfort, and after spending so long on the astral plane, gripping on to Keith’s emotions like a vice, his company makes him feel safe and brings about a flickering warmth within him that Shiro can’t quite put an exact name on.

He’d probably call it love, but that’s more the raw and burning heat he’s been feeling for Keith ever since he had woken up on his bed in the shack after crash landing on Earth.

“You should be asleep,” Keith only half jokes, his first and foremost priority always being his fierce need to protect and look after Shiro acting up once more as though it were an instinct. It’s been there ever since their Garrison days, back when Shiro used to abuse his reputation as the golden boy and ease Iverson over before going out and taking Keith to the roof in order to talk things over and find out the details of yet another fight he had tangled himself in. He remembers the way Keith’s fists used to clench against the cold and sand dusted surface of the roof; how steely his tone was when he’d explain that he was only trying to defend Shiro’s honour. How the other cadets had been talking shit and he claimed that Shiro is the only pure and good-willed person he’s met in a shitty world filled with cold hearted bastards; how he never deserves to be on the receiving end of any sort of snide comments – especially ones from envious cadets that had only made it to the Garrison because of their parent’s wealth and not by their own talent.

“I’m not tired,” Shiro replies, though maybe a better way of phrasing it would be that he’s too restless, but he doesn’t want to burden Keith any more than he already has. “Besides, shouldn’t you be resting too?”

Sitting himself down on the edge of the bed Shiro’s currently occupying, Keith shakes his head gently, dark hair (longer than he remembers) sways with the action and Shiro resists the twitch in his fingers wanting to reach out and brush the bangs out of Keith’s eyes. “I’m not the one who’s just had their consciousness transplanted.”

Shiro rolls his eyes fondly, “You’re the one who’s been piloting a lion through an endless expanse of space for the past seven hours.”

There’s an arch to his left brow and a teasing curve to his lips as he turns his head to face Shiro, but then all of Shiro’s attention immediately gets drawn to the prominent scar harsh across Keith’s cheek, instead. “You do realise that it still doesn’t sound as nearly as bad as a transplanted consciousness”

Keith’s tone is light and breezy, but Shiro can barely process his words and judging by the way Keith smile slowly dissolves and his eyes brim with concern, he knows why, too.

“Shiro,” he breathes, but Shiro can’t find it within him to rip his gaze away from the raw burn permanently seared into his skin. _He_ did that. _He_ hurt Keith. Came so close to blinding him. Came so close to _killing_ him. It’s a reminder forever etched on him and it’s wounding enough for Shiro to look at, and he can’t possibly imagine what it’s like for Keith to stare in the mirror and be met with the taint. It’s an ugly scar, though by no means does it make Keith look hideous, but it holds ugly meaning and uglier memories.

“Shiro, please look at me,” Keith pleads and Shiro meets his eyes, finding stunning purple grey irises overflowing with determination. “It wasn’t you, Shiro. It wasn’t your fault.”

And isn’t that just so like Keith? Always so willing to ease away Shiro’s pain, shouldering the heavy load all on his own in an impressive show of strength and unyielding loyalty.

His gaze drops to his mattress, “it looked like me, though.”

All of a sudden, a gentle palm cups his jaw and the touch blossoms warmth all through his body. Slowly, Keith tilts Shiro’s head up and forces him to meet his eyes. “That thing might have looked like you, but it wasn’t you,” he says with a tone so fierce that it has Shiro repressing a shiver. “Shiro, after everything you’ve done for me, do you really think that one of Haggar’s puppets would be able to change how strongly I feel for you?”

Keith speaks with so much conviction that he can’t help but believe him, that and his undying trust for the man. Tentatively, Shiro lifts his arm, reaching out slowly that allows Keith enough time to pull away. He doesn’t though, so Shiro’s fingers land on his cheek and his thumb reverently strokes softness over the scar. If he weren’t so furious at Haggar, he’d admit that it suits Keith, like a galra mark that matches his mother’s, pulling taunt across his sharp cheekbones and even sharper jaw.

Shiro takes a deep breath before he musters the courage to ask, and when he does his voice is hardly a whisper, “And how _do_ you feel for me, Keith?”

Feeling Keith evidently freeze against his palm, he’s certain that he’s overstepped an unspoken boundary in favour of his wistful thinking and unrequited desires. Shiro’s begins to pull away, about to spill feverish apologies but is stopped in his tracks when the fingers cupping his jaw curl tighter.

“Shiro…” Keith breathes his name like a prayer, and he can’t help but imagine all the ways he can get him to repeat it again and again and again. Nervously, Keith licks his lips but looks at him with an intensity that roots Shiro on the spot. “Shiro, I…” he tries, but the words fail him once more, subconsciously leaning in closer as his violet gaze slips from his eyes and settle intently on his mouth.

Shiro’s breath hitches just a moment before Keith bridges the gap between their lips, keenly pressing them together until Shiro’s eyes flutters shut, tilting his head so that they slot together like puzzle pieces and kisses him properly, with all the affection and attentiveness that Keith deserves and more.

They pull apart with Keith’s shuddering sigh against his lips. Shiro’s already obsessed, head still spinning, and can’t help but dive in for more. To just make the moment last a little longer.

And if he doesn’t stop until the bite of the paladin armour presses against his thighs as Keith straddles his lap and the sound of Lance’s gods forsaken voice bursting through the comms along with a mooing Kaltenecker…

 _Well_ ….


End file.
